


Could I get a Volunteer?

by Kingkiwi



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Crack, Drama, Humor, I wouldn't wish Yoongi's mother on anyone, Kind of an arranged marriage, M/M, They're all lil' shits, Wedding Interrupted, Weddings, fluff?, lord forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5399399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingkiwi/pseuds/Kingkiwi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yoongi's life is about to come together. He's getting married with his mother watching tearfully from the audience. His best friend is beside him, knowing grin and a thumbs up. His partner's face is aglow.  </p><p>Until those two little words have to kick down the door of his happiness and take a shit on the rug: "I object!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could I get a Volunteer?

**Author's Note:**

> So, it turns out the harder I try to write something serious, the more ridiculous it comes out. I usually try to walk the tightrope between serious drama and humor, but this one got away from me. Since it's a bit different from my usual fare, let me know if you like it!

Yoongi’s eyes focused on the decorative molding around the doorway as his collar was tugged, patted, and straightened. 

“Mom.”

He was having trouble breathing as she twisted the dangling ends of his bow tie into some semblance of respectability. 

“Mom, seriously.”

The tugging intensified and for a second, Yoongi feared he was going to meet his end via bow tie and an overly tight shirt collar.

“You’re choking me, Mom. And why do I have to wear a tux, anyway? It’s just Taehyung.”

With a hearty smack to his chest, she declared him ready and stepped away. Yoongi knew he was in trouble when her eyes narrowed and she pointed at him menacingly. “Here’s the deal.”

Oh, lord. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. The bow tie was really beginning to hamper his breathing, so he eased a finger between the bow and his throat to loosen it. 

His hand was smacked away. “Don’t you dare mess up my hard work,” his mom, Seoyeon, ordered. “We’ve been telling you forever that you need to settle down and the time has finally come. And after your father’s death,” she closed her eyes for a second to gather her composure, “God knows the company will be better off knowing the heir has some stability in his life.”

Seeing how his father’s death still affected his mother (thinking about it always hit him hard, too), gave Yoongi the urge to reach out and pull her into a hug. He didn’t get the chance.

Her eyes snapped open, all vulnerability vanquished. “You’re only getting married once.” This was punctuated with a don’t-you-dare-contradict-me raise of the eyebrows. “So you’re going to do it right. Wearing a tuxedo is the least you can do. Now get out there and get your man. I’ll be right behind you.” It sounded like more like a threat than encouragement.

It took a monumental effort to avoid rolling his eyes. The pep talk was completely unnecessary. He was going to go out to the altar, do his thing with Taehyung, and then go home and hopefully lead a blissful life by his own rules. As much as he loved his mother, it would be a relief to get her off his back about the whole marriage issue. After years of subtle hints and not-so-subtle elbow jabs, he’d finally be able to live in peace without every eligible man and woman being carefully shuttled in his direction. 

Oh, and he’d have Taehyung, or whatever. Yeah. Great. 

Setting his shoulders, Yoongi looked back at his mother one last time and stepped through the doorway into the main church hall. Hundreds of pairs of eyes immediately swiveled in his direction, almost pinning him in place. The band struck up the music and Yoongi took his first step forward into his new life. 

***

So, the ceremony went like this:

Yoongi made it to the altar and the priest without tripping, passing out, or puking from nerves. Taehyung, escorted by his father, joined him not long after. Yoongi quirked a smile at his fiancé, who looked quite suave in his own black tuxedo. Taehyung scrunched up his nose and smiled back, unconsciously reaching out to Yoongi’s arm before realizing it and tucking his hand back by his side. 

Hoseok, Taehyung’s best man, beamed at Yoongi, his smile just visible over the other man’s shoulder. 

The priest cleared her throat and began to speak. 

Everything went swimmingly. Tears beaded in the corner of Seoyeon’s eyes and the many guests looked upon the happy couple proudly. The sun shone through the stained glass windows, painting the altar in a dreamy wash of color, only accentuated by the chains and bouquets of white lilies surrounding them. 

The vows were touching- they wrote their own- and the priest moved right into the “I dos.” Just as she was about to pronounce them husband and husband, an irritated squawk came from behind Taehyung. The priest twitched and slowly turned her stony gaze upon Hoseok, who was clenching his fists and frowning.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask if anyone has any objections?” he demanded.

A shocked gasp echoed through the crowd of guests like a wave. Every pair of eyes was laser-focused on the interfering best man and the soft susurration of whispers started up in the back of the room. Yoongi stared at Hoseok, who didn’t even look in his direction because he was busy sending every inch of his heated glare at the priest. 

Yoongi glanced at his mother, who was sitting in the front row. For the moment, she merely looked suspicious, but if carried on any longer, she would quickly move to apoplectic and then they’d all have hell to pay. She was heavily invested in this wedding for more than one reason, and hell would freeze over before she’d let it fail. 

“We don’t really do that anymore,” the priest informed Hoseok dryly. 

Ignoring the alarmed looks of the rest of the wedding party, Hoseok stepped out of the line of groomsmen and took a defiant stance by Taehyung. “Well, you should, because I object!”

Yoongi bit his lip as his wedding ceremony began falling to pieces before his eyes. Seoyeon was going to be so disappointed, and Taehyung, well Taehyung was trying his damndest not to grin at Hoseok.

The priest looked to the heavens, probably for patience, but continued to address Hoseok politely. “On what grounds do you object?”

The whispering grew louder and Yoongi’s mother was a second away from marching up to the altar and dragging Hoseok away by his ear. 

“I object because I love Taehyung and he’s going to marry me instead!” Hoseok bellowed, his voice carrying to every corner of the church. 

“Hoseok!” Yoongi finally cried, reaching for Taehyung’s arm. “What are you talking about?” One of his best friends was in love with his fiancé? Did Taehyung know? Did he love Hoseok back?

His hand was karate chopped by said wedding crasher, who slipped in between the two grooms. “Don’t touch him, Yoongi. I’m not letting this wedding happen!”

The priest coughed. “Be that as it may, your love for Taehyung is not a legal objection, so it does not stand. The wedding will continue.”

The murmuring of the crowd had grown into a dull roar at this point. It was a wonder any of the guests could hear the ongoing disaster as it unfolded. Yoongi’s mother was on her cellphone, speaking rapidly and glowering at the lot of them. 

“Taehyung, you’re not going to let him do this, are you?” Yoongi implored, a single tear falling down his cheek. “This is our day. Our wedding!”

Finally Taehyung, the cause of this mess, spoke. “Yoongi…” he reached around Hoseok and gently placed his hand on his fiance’s cheek. “I love you.”

Yoongi’s expression brightened.

“…but I’m _in love_ with Hoseok. I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you!”

The guests gasped again and true chaos erupted. The groomsmen and women looked at each other in confusion while the priest’s jaw dropped. Hoseok swept Taehyung into his arms (though it looked like Taehyung jumped, in all honesty) and took off down the center aisle as the band stood in the corner, instruments stilled. The singer was laughing. 

In no time at all, Hoseok and Taehyung were gone, leaving Yoongi standing with the priest and a baffled wedding party at the altar. Seokjin, the other best man, pulled Yoongi into a sympathetic half hug. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi. How did this happen?” 

Yoongi buried his face into Seokjin’s chest to stop the tears (of laughter) and grunted in (faked) misery. Not only was Hoseok’s performance ridiculous, but who knew he was strong enough to pick up Taehyung and literally run off with him? They must have practiced beforehand. He hoped they ran fast and long because if Seoyeon caught up with them, Hoseok’s secret fiancé almost getting married off to their best friend would be the least of their problems. 

Seokjin began to pull away, but Yoongi wasn’t quite ready. He needed to wipe the smirk from his face, pronto. He clamped onto Seokjin and shoved his face into his friend’s shoulder even harder. “Oh, Yoongi,” Seokjin sighed. “If I ever get my hands on them, I’ll-”

A smaller pair of hands gripped Yoongi’s shoulders and he instantly stiffened. He had to play this right or Hoseok’s abduction of Taehyung would be for nothing. A couple of discreet swipes beneath his eyes, a heavy sniffle, and Yoongi was good to go. He released Seokjin and turned to his mother.

“Mom…”

“Yoongi, my poor son.” She cupped his cheeks. “How could Taehyung do that to you?” Their hug bordered on painfully tight.

Yoongi spared a second to feel guilty for fooling his mother, but only a second. Neither he, Taehyung, nor especially Hoseok wanted this wedding to happen and this was the only way they could think to get out of it. He almost feared the plan was ruined when the objection lines were omitted, so thank god for quick-thinking Hoseok and his ability to make a scene. 

“Don’t worry, Yoongi, I’ll find someone else for you,” Seoyeon reassured her son. 

Shit.

“There has to be someone here that’s good-looking and single…” She turned toward the crowd of milling guests, who weren’t sure if they could leave and was the reception still happening? Because they were promised an open bar…

“No, Mom. I don’t need someone right now, I just…I just need to be alone,” Yoongi said softly, giving her hands a squeeze. “Thank you, but I’m not ready.” Hopefully he could play the “not ready” card until he was 40, if not later. 

Seoyeon dropped his hands and patted his cheek. “Nonsense, dear. The thing you need to forget about a trashy man like that (Yoongi winced) is another man. A better man!” 

Seokjin was cringing beside them. The priest crossed herself.

“Excuse me, everyone!” Seoyeon called toward the crowd. Only a few people near the front turned to look at her. Eyes narrowing, she strode across the front of the room and banged out a chord on the organ. The sound blasted through the room, making everyone jump, and stomped back to the altar. “Alright, everyone. Could I get a volunteer? Any single man or woman who’s self-sufficient and between the ages of 20 and 30? Please come up the steps.”

The whispers returned and Yoongi caught sight of a few groups of girls giggling and pointing at him. As if the humiliation of being abandoned at the altar wasn’t enough. To his horror, a young man, clearly pushed by his father, and a young woman approached the altar.

Frowning, Seoyeon’s hawk-like gaze scoured the church. “Two isn’t bad, but let’s make this a real competition,” she muttered. Everyone cringed away as her searching gaze swept by.

“You!” She barreled after the shell-shocked photographer and dragged him into the group. “Not bad at all. Come over here and I’ll do a quick interview, then we can get this show on the road.”

The priest was sitting on the organist’s stool off to the side, her head in her hands, muttering about the sanctity of marriage. 

The guests settled back into their seats, now invested in how this whole spectacle was going to turn out. 

“Mhm, you can leave. Thank you for your interest.” 

The boy shoved forward by his father was sighing in relief as Seoyeon waved him away impatiently. He jogged back to his family and glared at everyone before stalking out of the church. Yoongi sympathized. He would hate to be shoved into a marriage at the whim of a parental figure. Oh wait.

He hoped to god his mother didn’t choose the girl. No offense to her, but he wouldn’t be able to get it up and he didn’t intend to be celibate for the rest of his life. 

To his immense relief and the girl’s visible disappointment, she was waved away with an imperious flick of Seoyeon’s hand. The photographer remained before her, camera dangling from his neck. He adjusted his glasses as an unintelligible stream of chatter washed over him. Instructions or threats, it wasn’t clear. For some reason, he didn’t appear to be wildly protesting or edging away from the madwoman.

In fact, contrary to all logic and common sense, the man even nodded once or twice!

The audience watched with bated breath.

The photographer turned his gaze to Yoongi and their eyes met with a spark.

 _Dayum_ . Emphasis on the _yum_ .

Yoongi almost dropped the wedding band clutched between his fingers. He could do worse, much worse. Not that looks were the foundation of marriage, of course, but at least he’d have something nice to look at until the divorce papers went through.

In no time at all, the photographer was standing across from Yoongi, one chapped lip trapped between his teeth. Seoyeon stood in front of her chair and motioned for them to get on with it.

The priest grudgingly returned to the grooms while the bewildered wedding party lined up on either side.

Yoongi smiled crookedly while the photographer wiped a damp hand on his slacks and adjusted his glasses. It was his first and only show of nerves about the whole debacle.

“So,” the priest said, dusting the front of her robe quite unnecessarily. “Any more objections?”

Silence rolled from the guests in a wave. The man who was been pushed forward by his father had returned and was peeking around the church door.

“Good riddance. Do you, Yoongi, take this man to be your lawfully wedding husband, etc., etc.?”

Yoongi’s soon-to-be-husband, who was quite impassive thus far, was smiling for some reason. It took him by surprise. The smile was…really nice. Gorgeous, even.

“I do.”

Maybe he could learn to live with that smile.

“And do you, uh…” The priest ducked her head and hissed, “What’s your name?” which made the man’s smile widen as he whispered back, “Jimin.”

Clearing her throat imperiously, the priest straightened. “And do you, Jimin, take Yoongi to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, etc., etc.?”

Seoyeon’s hands clutched her purse. The room audibly inhaled. 

Yoongi almost startled out of his skin when Jimin’s hand bridged the gap between them and pulled his hand into a loose grip. 

“I do.”

Seoyeon’s cackle of triumph must have been his imagination. 

Yoongi pulled Jimin’s hand up to slide the ring on, but the damn thing got stuck on the second knuckle. He almost burst out laughing, the inevitable dirty look from the priest and his mother the only force stopping him. The ring was originally sized for Taehyung. Almost snorting, Yoongi slipped it off and slid it onto Jimin’s pinkie instead. It didn’t quite fit there, either, but at least it went on all the way.

Task completed, he looked up at Jimin. 

The man’s smile was small and private and his eyes were shining. He gently raised Yoongi’s hand and carefully the other ring over Yoongi’s left ring finger. The metal was warm from Jimin’s hand. 

All of a sudden it hit him like a hammer: he was going to be married! A husband! Yoongi had never been in a long-term relationship, let alone something serious enough to even consider marriage. How the hell was this going to work? 

His belated freak out was cut short by the priest pronouncing them man and man and instructing them to kiss. Before he knew it, Jimin’s face was looming in, filling his vision with nothing but tanned skin and sparkling eyes. 

Well, he might as well go the whole nine yards. You only get married (for the first time) once.

Jimin’s shocked “eep!” when Yoongi aggressively attached their mouths was worth every bit of awkwardness and humiliation up to that point. 

It didn’t stop there. The other groom quickly got with the program, introducing tongue and hands, and oh~

About a half-level below “face-eating,” Seokjin had the wonderful job of tapping on Yoongi’s shoulder and coughing meaningfully. Specifically, meaning, “There are three hundred people watching you gnaw on this stranger’s face, and while yes, I admit he’s hot, your mother is also watching and maybe crying, and if I have to see anything resembling a boner, our friendship is over.”

Yoongi slowly pulled away from the lingering kiss with a wet sound and wiped his mouth and chin on the cuff of his tuxedo. After a brief pause, the guests broke into a roar of applause, some even standing and whooping. Seoyeon’s arms were crossed as she nodded approvingly, small twinkles of moisture in the corners of her eyes.

Jimin leaned back and quickly took a snapshot of Yoongi’s face. “For posterity,” he grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi threaded his arm through Jimin’s, and as one, they sauntered toward the door beneath an enthusiastic shower of flower petals. 

So in the end, everything worked out: Taehyung and Hoseok were off somewhere, probably banging; Seoyeon got her wedding; the guests got one hell of a show; and Yoongi –well, only time would tell.

Jimin smiled beatifically.

“To the open bar!”

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: your guys' comments are making my life lmao


End file.
